Tears of the Dark
by Fiery Charizard
Summary: A fic following the thoughts of Yami Bakura as he struggles with his emotions and the decisions life throws at him. Fic entered in Zoo's unofficial contest Please R & R!


I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh!  
  
FC: okies well just a short piece following the thoughts of Yami Bakura, referred to as Bakura in this   
fic. Bakura as in his Hikari will be referred to as Ryou. This fic was entered for Zoo's unofficial contest   
so it'll be on that site as well. It will change from Bakura to Ryou but you'll recognise those bits.   
Enjoy!  
  
Warnings – self-loathing, self-abuse, hints of Yaio, slight AU towards end  
  
***********************************************************************************  
  
Quote: "I dreamed I had a dream and now that dream is taken from me" – Morpheus, The Matrix   
Reloaded  
  
***Bakura**************************************************************************  
  
Tears of the Dark  
  
What is it like? What is it like to be loved? Why am I alone, without any such emotion, left to watch   
those who feel this empathy from the shadows of pain? All I want is to feel what they do. Is that so   
much to ask?  
  
I watch from behind eyes that are not mine, inside a mind that does not want me. I feel the laughter   
ripple through Ryou's body, yet I know I am not a part of that joy. How could I be? I am an outcast,   
rejected by those who do not suffer the same agony as I do. I see the pharaoh's stern face light up at   
something his Hikari said. I feel an invisible knife slash through my Soul as I watch him kiss the boy   
lightly on his forehead.   
  
I know then that I do not belong.   
  
I am not wanted. I am not liked. I am _nothing_.  
  
Later, when Ryou has returned home, I separate myself from his body, forming my own one. I look at   
him and see perfection. Ivory skin is lit with an angelic light, warm hazel eyes glimmer with a   
contentment I have never felt. His silken silver bangs are slightly wind ruffled, falling around his   
innocent face. His chest rises and falls gently to the rhythm of his breathing, quickening slightly when   
he sees me appear before him. The gentle eyes widen, presumed fear glittering in their depths. Every   
muscle in his body tenses on instinct and because of doubt.  
  
He doubts me and my actions.   
  
But I do not touch him. Instead I turn and make my way up the stairs, going to the guestroom where I   
frequently go now. It has been weeks since I have put a hand near him; I see no point. Yes, when I did I   
knew he wanted me. Wanted me to go, to leave his life.   
  
I do not wish to be wanted in that fashion.  
  
So I just…stopped. I saw the confusion in Ryou's eyes along with the relief that he would go to school   
and not have to explain the bruises and cuts. I haven't spoken to him since. Instead I come to the spare   
room and spend my time here.  
  
I close the door and look over into the shattered mirror, its pieces littering the carpet around the   
dressing table. I look into the shards and see several images of myself. And what I see is imperfection.   
I am not perfect, I am not complete.   
  
I am a copy.   
  
A copy living in shadow while the original stands bathed in a light I cannot enter. My anger flares with   
self-loathing as I pick up the nearest object, a lamp. The wire snaps as I wrench it from the power   
point, throwing it at the already shattered mirror, watching it hit the fragile glass, fascinated as the   
fragments fall like jagged tears, catching the sunset's glimmering light as they fall. They mirror my   
own Soul, I can feel it. Feel the cracked lining begin to split from the main bulk, tiny segments falling   
away into nothing.  
  
Not even the shadows except me as part of them. I am an outcast of everything but my own pain. I   
listen to Ryou's soft footsteps as he runs up the stairs to his room. I know he wonders why I stay away   
from him, why I shut myself away and take my rage out on the objects around me. He would not   
understand, as if he ever could.   
  
Yes he has tried talking to me, tried to understand me. But in this world, trying gets you nowhere. I   
understand that now. I glance around the room as I listen to find out what he is doing. This room had   
been a warm cosy place, pale magnolia walls were now scratched, dented and chipped. Navy blue   
curtains hung in tatters, their thick material ripped and shredded. All around me I see evidence of my   
destruction. There were no working lights in here, no mirrors left solid. The carpeted floor is littered   
with china, glass, wood and other destroyed items.   
  
None of this matters to me.   
  
I listen to Ryou moved around his bedroom, obviously getting changed to go out again. I hear him hop   
around trying to pull his jeans on. His wardrobe doors bangs shut, before he leaves his room again,   
running down the stairs instead of walking. Giving a last glance around the now decrepit guestroom, I   
make my way out.  
  
I make no sound as I walk down the stairs, my feet barely touching the worn brown carpet that covers   
each step. The front door closes with a small click. He has gone to see the "pharaoh" and his bunch of   
followers. I sometimes wonder what it is like to have friends and someday hope that I may have   
someone I can call a friend. But wait…that could never happen. You have to be desired to have friends.   
There's my chances gone.   
  
And I am left with a choice. To stay here and destroy some other unfortunate objects in my own   
blinded rage and hate or to follow Ryou. The latter seems more enticing, why I do not know. I leave   
through the front door, banging it loudly behind me. I scan the surrounding roads to see which direction   
my other went in. I spy a quick glance of silvery hair before it disappears around a corner.   
  
I follow him, my pace lissom and footfalls light. I don't know why I choose to follow him when he   
goes out with his friends, I just feel as though I have some kind of duty to watch over Ryou. Personally   
I disgust myself because of such thoughts and actions. Yet I still carry them out. I am a Watcher. I   
scrutinise other's behaviour and emotions, but am never a part of them.   
  
I stay back, reluctant to let Ryou know I am here. I do not wish to be seen. He heads down to the beach,   
its long stretch of golden sand a popular meeting point among school kids. At night they light immense   
bonfires, whose flames dance and stretch towards the glowing stars that penetrate the nights deep   
blackness. Countless amounts of alcohol are consumed, resulting in mindless, aggressive youths. Not   
that they weren't mindless _before_ they were drunk. I will never understand the modern human mind.   
Though I cannot say much seeing as I frequently abused Ryou while I was drunk, so while he   
remembers I occasionally did not.  
  
But that does not matter now.   
  
I choose to sit on one of the sand dunes that line the top half of the beach. I have a clear view of   
everywhere and everyone from up here. I see the dim-witted pair, Jounochi and Honda play fighting,   
rolling around on the sand as they bicker. It confuses me, as do many things of late. I see no point to   
their childish actions. My attention turns to that arrogant pharaoh.   
  
I despise him.   
  
He has always had everything he has ever wanted and all I have ever had is what no one wants. I suffer   
while he gets all the luxuries life can give.   
  
I feel my fists clench and jaw tighten as I watch him with Yuugi. Watch him wrap his arms around the   
boy, watch his Hikari kiss him on the lips. I feel my Soul scream with ire as I observe what I cannot   
have with Ryou through my own fault. My breath escapes my lips in a jealous hiss.   
  
My attention is drawn to Ryou, his beautifully slender body standing out among the other rabble. I see   
him laugh, that ignorant blonde Jounochi the source of _my_ hikari's mirth. My tense muscles begin to   
tremble with irrationality as I see Jou advance towards Ryou, bringing his hand up to Ryou's cheek,   
stroking his subtle skin with tender fingers. A new emotion enters Ryou's body, our mind link allowing   
me to focus on it. Lust mixed with bantam amounts of doubt.   
  
Bloody red seeps into my vision as I watch lividly as another takes what is mine, what I have wanted   
for so long. Jou's lips scrape against Ryou's, urging _my_ Light to kiss him, sending little bolts of   
lightning through our mind link. Half of me wants to storm down the dune and beat the crap out of Jou,   
but the other half stops me.   
  
Pain.  
  
It fills my body, my soul, my heart. I never even thought I _had_ a heart. Obviously I do. And it   
_hurts_. It sends my entire form reeling in agony as I observe the scene before me. The crimson drains   
from my vision, the tranquil colours of the world replacing the angry shade with their painful reality.   
  
I can't stand it.  
  
Before I even realise what I'm doing, my legs are running. Running away from the source of my   
agony. People flash before my eyes yet I do not see them, only feel them as I push them out of my path   
in my rush to leave this place. The hard tarmac reflects the sound of my rapid footsteps, their sound   
synchronising with my drumming heart.  
  
Minutes walk on by as I flee, time standing still, mocking me with its pace, drawing out my torment for   
as long as possible. My waiting is almost over as I burst in through the front door. The moulded plastic   
swings back against the wall, refusing to shut itself as I rush on up the stairs.   
  
Once again I end up where I started. Back in the desecrated guestroom. I grab the nearest thing to my   
hand. An intricately carved chair, its legs and back rounded into thin poles with simple designs set it   
them. I pick up the chosen object and fling it forcefully away from me with a piercing scream of   
intensified anguish. Fire hardened wood smacks against the wall, chipping tiny shards of plaster out of   
it. One of the legs snaps off. I stalk over to the broken piece and continue to throw it repeatedly until   
nothing but splinters of shattered wood litter the floor.  
  
My legs, no longer able to hold me up, give way beneath me and I fall to the floor. I do not feel the   
sharp shards of broken mirror as they pierce my knees; all I feel is my weakness. My hand tremble as I   
bring them up to my face, muffling my broken sobs as I try to conceal the tears that fall down my   
cheeks like melted snow.   
  
I am weak.  
  
I am not strong, as I am not emotionless. This is what I have been reduced to. A trembling, pitiful yami   
who wishes he could feel nothing.   
  
I don't even remember crying before. It's a strange sensation, feeling the warm wetness as it slides   
down my face. Feel the pain shudder through my veins as I rock. Rock back and forth continuously, my   
melancholy escaping through my lips in short ragged chokes.   
  
I do not wish to feel this way.   
  
My hands drop away from my face, fingers tracing the floor until they curl around something cold and   
smooth. My tears continue to trail down my face, staining my skin with their weakness. I blink to clear   
my vision, staring down at the piece of shattered mirror I hold in my balled hand.   
  
The jagged edge ends in an acuminate end. It calls to me, whispering a sweet melody that calms my   
quivering body as I raise it up, so I can see all its imperfections. I lower it back down, resting it against   
the sleeve of my shirt. Slowly, I draw it across, digging it through the soft fabric, down into my skin. I   
watch with satisfaction as it leaves a wake of bloody crimson behind it, tainting the white sleeve. I   
wonder if it cross any of my other scars.   
  
This isn't the first time my body has been subject to this. Why do you think I wear a long sleeved shirt?   
I will not let others see what my weakness has driven me to. Don't you understand? I _like_ this. I love   
to watch the coppery substance leak from my arms, knowing I still have some superiority. It drowns   
out my emotional pain with its liquid ooze. This is my reprieve.  
  
I begin to slash frantically as my arms, hysterical, insane laughter erupting from my throat. I feel a   
sudden jolt run through my mental link.  
  
He _knows_.  
  
Ryou knows what I am doing; yet there is nothing he can do. I'll be gone before he gets here. He   
doesn't know what I feel, how could he? He has all he's ever wanted now and I won't be there to make   
his life hell.   
  
My head feels strangely light and almost giggly. The mirror shard, now tainted crimson, continues its   
beautiful dance, marring my skin with deep blemished gashes. I watch, almost delightedly, as the cerise   
substance trickles down my arm, forming droplets so that it can escape onto the floor, staining the   
cerulean carpet a darker shade.   
  
Something appears in the corner of my eye line, standing and watching my existence begin to fade. I do   
not turn to look at it, a hesitance inside my head warding me from doing so, it is as if I have a primal   
_fear_ of this thing I cannot see. I could see that this figure was dressed in all black, his ebony cloak   
concealing any skin he might have shown.  
  
"Have you come to gloat? To tell me how your life is so must better than mine and ask why I am doing   
this?"   
  
My own voice was foreign, far away. It was like an echo etched into my mind, as though I had never   
even said anything.  
  
"I _know_ why you are doing this and I do not come to gloat, merely to give you a choice." His words   
sunk deep into my mind, his tone eerily calm and collected. It sounded almost _inhuman_. Inquisition   
overpowers my sense of hesitancy and I look at the stranger standing on my left, letting my eyes   
wander as they pleased.   
  
The long flowing cloak draped about his shoulders, ends around his feet. Sinuous arms were folded   
across a narrow but toned chest, covered by a tight raven black shirt. Leather pants covered extremely   
long elegant legs, yet all this wasn't what attracted my attention.   
  
It was his eyes.   
  
Deep liquid gold shone in the darkness of the room their gaze centred on me, gazing into my very Soul.   
Golden eyes that held an intelligence, a wisdom far older than I could imagine. Ones that also carried   
an almost mischievous sadistic glint. They were the only part of his face that portrayed his emotions,   
which he appeared to have few. Beautiful ivory skin, paler than the moon's glowing faces showed no   
signs of age or scars. Short emerald hair was spiked upwards, streaked with natural black.   
  
"What choice?" I snapped out of my staring, time seeming to slow around us as I no longer felt the   
burning of the bloody slashes on my scarred arms.   
  
"A simple one, a choice of two" he remarked, my attention completely in his hands. "I have watched   
you Bakura for a while now. I know your pain; I know what has driven you to this. I am offering you a   
way out. One where you don't feel the pain but you deliver it as you wish, where you can become   
immortal without the help of the item you are the servant of, void of the emotions you are plagued by.   
So you may choose to carry on as you are now and eventually die from your agony or you can join me   
and become one of my people."  
  
His people? I knew he wasn't human but then…  
  
"What are you?"  
  
A fraction of a half-smile danced on his face. "That is not important yet. You will know if you take my   
offer."  
  
"You offer me this without even telling me who you are" I asked, my tone voicing my mistrust,   
watching his face carefully. His expression refused to change. "And how do you know my name?"  
  
"You could never pronounce my name in your language, so if you wish to call me something then I   
shall go by the name Tura. And I know your name because, like I said, I have been watching you."  
  
So this was my choice. To bleed to death as my energy escapes through the slits in my arm or to trust   
this guy, Tura, whom I hardly know, with his proposal. I don't even know what I would become. But   
could it really be worse?  
  
"I don't have all night Bakura and neither do you" Tura stated, his patience apparently growing thin.  
  
As I contemplated my decision, my thoughts strayed back to Ryou, presenting my with another image   
of him with Jou. A pang of emotion stabbed through my heart, allowing my decision to be made.  
  
"I'll go with you" I murmured quietly.   
  
I had nothing left anyway. What I believed to be love for my Hikari I know could never be returned.  
  
Tura smiled, his grin demonic and malicious. "Excellent."  
  
He stepped forward, thrusting his open palm _into_ my chest, his entire figure glowing. Agony rose   
through my flesh attacking every inch of my being. A scream rattled its way up out of my throat in   
unadulterated pain. And then I felt nothing…  
  
***Ryou***************************************************************************  
  
My heart pounded as I ran up the stairs to the guestroom. This shouldn't have happened, this wasn't   
how it should be. Mentally I could kick myself.   
  
I burst into the guestroom, shocked by the sight that met my eyes. I have never entered the guestroom   
since my yami took it over, I had no need of it. I had vaguely known what he did in here, due to the   
crashes, bangs and shatters I had previously heard. It was a mess. Everything was broken, not just a   
little, but totally destroyed, beyond even slight repair. I make my way in, careful to avoid the chair   
splinters and glass.   
  
I knew he had seen me with Jounochi, I had felt the hurt and betrayal through our mental link. He had   
been careful to mask what emotions he let slip through our link before, but at that moment I knew what   
he felt. How he had suffered and why he had.   
  
It was because of _me_, I caused it. I never knew how he felt, I always assumed he didn't want to be   
near me, that he hated me. I see now that I was wrong.   
  
My breath becomes caught in my throat when I see a dark patch on the carpet. I kneel down beside it,   
my fingers daring to touch it. They come away crimson.  
  
No, please no…  
  
A shard of broken mirror lay near the bloodied area, the cool silvery piece tainted with the same   
substance. My eyes blur as two salty rivers trickle down my cheeks, joining at my chin to drop   
unceremoniously onto my knees. I don't understand, there is no trace of him leaving, yet I can no   
longer feel him.  
  
This couldn't be, I wouldn't let it!  
  
I threw the offending mirror across the floor, my shaking fingers running through my snowy bangs.   
This isn't what I want, I want _him_ here with me now.  
  
"I-I love you Bakura…"  
  
The Millennium Ring hung around my neck, its inhabitant gone.  
  
***Bakura**************************************************************************  
  
Pitiful.  
  
To think I let my emotions cause me so much pain when _this_ was waiting for me. The humans that   
live in the light of the sun allow themselves to be subject to all of life's cruelty and agony.   
  
A malicious laugh echoes from my throat. To think, I once suffered from the same _disease_ as they   
still do and yet I am now higher than them all. Higher than their kings and queens, higher than their   
leaders and diplomats. I am above _you_ and everything around you.   
  
You believe I am mocking you, gloating about what I have and what you do not. I have every right to. I   
know that you will never be like me, painless and free from the restraints of being human.   
  
I know how Ryou felt about me now, but strangely I feel practically nothing. It is one of my new   
"traits", shall we say. I cannot feel any of the same emotions I once did. I now feel new pathos,   
allowing me to do everything my kind does.  
  
Yes my kind.  
  
Once, I believed the shadows were above me and rejected me, now it is not so. I _am_ the shadows, I   
am part of them. I am now a true yami, the _real_ darkness, not some pathetic second half of another.  
  
For I am a Shadow Master.  
  
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FC: there we go all done! I do own Tura and I presume I own the Shadow Masters as I've never seen   
anyone else with them before; so I shall say they are mine ^^ Please review! 


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